One By One
by seetherrayne
Summary: "Stiles, please. Something's wrong. Let me help you." He wouldn't look at her. "Lydia, let go." "No," she said, tightening her grip on his hand. "I'm not letting go. Just let me help." Finally looking at her, she saw just how tired and haggard he was. "No one can help me," he said in a final, determined tone. He jerked his hand out of hers and left the room.


**Okay, I got a little carried away with this one, but I personally like it a lot, so I hope that you do too!**

**This was requested by classwith8brass on tumblr: Prompt: Lydia trying to help stiles with the darkness**

**I don't own Teen Wolf.**

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He was being dragged. He didn't know where from and it was dark, so he couldn't tell where he was at the time.

"NO! WAIT!" he yelled. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew wherever it was, that there would nothing but agonizing pain. "PLEASE!"

He tried to twist of the grasp of whoever – or, whatever – was dragging him, rolling over onto his back.

The figure was cast into shadows, but from what he could tell, it _looked_ human. But with everything that had happened, that really didn't mean much.

He tried to pull his leg from the thing's grasp, but the figure was too strong. He kept fighting as the same words ran on a loop through his head.

_We will destroy _all_ of them!_

Moon light came through a window, shedding light on the mysterious figure. He fought down a scream.

_One. By. One._

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Stiles sat up, trying to get away from whatever was wrapped around him.

"NO! STOP!" he yelled.

He realized what was wrapped around him was the blanket from the foot of his bed, and took deep breaths to try and slow his heart. There were papers everywhere, and Stiles rubbed his eyes before going for his phone. With shaking hands, he checked the time. 5:36 am. His dad would be home soon.

He started picking up the papers, putting them in stacks. He tried to make them neat, but his hands were shaking too hard. Drawing them into fists, he tried to calm himself, but he couldn't. He settled for the mishappen stacks and just focused on making his room _not_ look like an encyclopedia threw up in it.

The front door shut just as he finished cleaning up, and he heard his dad trudge up the stairs.

"Hey," his dad said, stopping in the doorway. "Did you stay up all night?"

Stiles shook his head. "Not all night."

His dad raised an eyebrow and gave him a stern look. "Stiles, I know you wanna figure out what's going on just as much as I do, but you need to sleep."

Stiles looked down at his feet. "I know."

He wasn't going to tell his dad that he was afraid to go to sleep, or that sometimes he didn't know whether he was even asleep or not.

"Then do it," his dad said, "please. I don't want you getting sick from lack of sleep."

Stiles just nodded.

His dad went to his own room to change, and Stiles stood there, his hands still shaking from nerves and fear.

Every time he thought he almost had it under control, the image of the figure flashed in his mind, and he'd have to start all over.

Today was going to be a long day.

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Lydia closed her locker, not surprised to find Aiden standing there.

"Hey, Babe," he said with a smile.

She raised an eyebrow. "How many times do I have to tell you _not_ to call me 'babe'?"

He shrugged. "What should I call you then?"

"I don't know," she said, leaning against the lockers. "There's 'sweetheart', 'gorgeous', 'honey', 'love', or even my name."

The smile slid off of his face. "Did somebody wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

"You could say that."

In reality, she didn't sleep much at all the night before. She was too busy worrying about Stiles. Yesterday, he had freaked out in History class when he was supposed to be reading out loud. Scott had gone after him, and as she glanced at him at his locker a few yards away, he seemed fine.

But it didn't keep her from worrying. She knew the darkness was trying to tear him down, and it scared her.

The first bell rang, and she patted Aiden's chest before walking towards class.

"You know what?" he said, following her until they got to her homeroom. "I could call you beautiful."

She stopped outside her classroom, her back to him.

"No," she said softly, memories of shining honey eyes tugging at her heart. "Don't call me beautiful."

Aiden sighed. "Why not?"

"Just don't okay?" she snapped, turning to face him.

"Fine," he replied putting his hands up in surrender. He leaned in to kiss her cheek before going to his own class.

She went in and sat between Allison and Stiles. She said hi to her best friend before turning to Stiles.

"Hey," she said.

"What?" he replied, his head snapping up. "Oh…hey."

She felt her eyebrows furrow in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "Just a little, uh, sleep deprived."

She saw right through the lie and he knew it, but the late bell rang as their teacher came in and demanded attention from them. Stiles looked forward, focusing on the lesson.

She watched as he picked up his pen to take notes. She saw his hand trembling so hard that he couldn't write. She watched as he took a deep breath and put the pen down.

It was getting worse. The darkness did something between when she saw him last and that morning to make Stiles shake like a leaf.

A protective rage surged through her. How dare this…she didn't even know what to call it. How dare this _thing_ try to hurt him like that?

She looked down at her paper with a stone face, trying to suppress the anger coursing through her. She couldn't focus on the lesson, and the more she thought about it, the angrier she got.

When the bell finally rang, she shot up and grabbed Stiles' hand. "Come on."

"Lydia, what-" he tried as she pulled him out of his seat. He barely had time to grab his backpack.

"Lydia," he said as she led him down the hall, looking for an empty classroom. "Lydia, what are you doing?"

She found a classroom and ducked in, dragging Stiles with her.

"Lydia!" he yelled. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," she said, spinning around to face him. "You tell me."

"You're the one who dragged me in here!" he countered, flinging his arms out.

She grabbed a pen from the desk and held it out to him. "Hold this and try to write something."

He froze, his mouth open. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, licking his lips.

"You saw that," he said quietly, putting his hand in his pockets.

She nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"I, uh, I'm just a little jittery today," he lied.

"Don't even start with me, Stilinski!" she yelled. "That was _not_ 'jittery!' That was something else entirely!" She took a step towards him, softening her voice. "What's going on?"

"It's nothing," he shrugged. The bell rang for the next period. "I gotta go."

"Stiles," she pleaded, making him stop dead. She took his hand gently and could feel the tremors. "Stiles, please. Something's wrong. Let me help you."

He wouldn't look at her. "Lydia, let go."

"No," she said, tightening her grip on his hand. "I'm not letting go. Just let me help."

Finally looking at her, she saw just how tired and haggard he was.

"No one can help me," he said in a final, determined tone. He jerked his hand out of hers and left the room.

She simply stood there, looking at her hand that had been holding Stiles'. It almost physically hurt when he ripped it away.

There was a wetness on her cheeks, and she brought her hand to her face to wipe away the tears.

Why did he think that he was beyond help? Did the darkness really get to him that much?

There was a tightness growing in her chest as she tried to control her tears.

She took a few deep breaths, but it didn't help. She realized the tightness was fear. Fear at what was happening to him, fear that she couldn't help. She was terrified for Stiles, and she wouldn't be able to calm down until she knew that he was okay.

She stormed out of the classroom, walking down the empty hallway, and ran right into Aiden.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, noticing her distress.

"I'm fine," she said. "Have you seen Stiles?"

"No," he answered. "What did he do?"

Lydia shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I need to find him."

She pushed past him and continued down the hallway.

"Hey!" Aiden followed her. "Why do you need to find Stiles?"

"I just do!" she yelled back.

"Atleast let me help!" he said.

"How?" she asked, turning around to look at him.

"I can locate his scent," Aiden replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right," she replied, surprised she hadn't thought of it herself.

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Stiles didn't make it to class.

He was halfway there when the hall started to spin. Like, literally spin. Or was he the one spinning? He couldn't tell.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them back up, the hall wasn't spinning anymore, but he felt incredibly dizzy. He stumbled over to a wall of lockers to steady himself, and put his forehead against the cool metal.

After taking a minute to gather himself, Stiles pushed himself off the locker and started walking again.

But he wasn't going to get off that easy.

He turned a corner, and there was a curtain. _The_ curtain. The one from his dreams. There were hands trying to break through, and he had no idea what fresh hell would be unleashed if they succeeded.

He blinked, and there was only one figure behind the curtain, moving her hands oddly. As if she was signing.

He had to get out of there. He needed air.

Stiles turned and ran to the nearest exit and burst through it. He didn't stop running until he was by the bleachers on the lacrosse field.

He took deep, gasping breaths, his _still_ shaking hands to his chest, trying to calm his pounding heart.

"It's not real," he told himself. "None of that was real."

But shouldn't that make him worry more?

A dark figure moved from under the bleacher. Stiles squinted, trying to make out who it was. It looked familiar…

The figure took a step towards him, and he knew how – or what – it was.

_One. By. One._

He scrambled away from the figure and onto the field.

"It's not real," he repeated, watching as the figure left the shade of the bleachers.

_This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real._

He chanted it over and over in his head, but he couldn't help but step back as the figure moved closer.

"You're not real!" he yelled. It didn't respond, just moved closer.

"Go away!" Stiles yelled. "Leave me alone!"

He stopped in the middle of the field, deciding to stand his ground. The figure was less than ten feet away from him now, and he could feel his heart racing in his chest.

"Leave me alone!" he yelled again. "I don't know what you want with me, but I can tell you, you're not gonna get it!"

The figure was close enough to touch him, and his body was too paralyzed with terror to move.

"Please leave me alone," he begged, closing his eyes.

_One. By. One. _

A pair of hands grabbed his arms, and fear finally subsided enough to let him move.

"NO!" he yelled, pushing the figure away before opening his eyes and running.

"Stiles, wait!"

He kept running until he was tackled by a heavy body.

"NO! PLEASE!" he begged as he struggled against the figure. He got a punch in, but it didn't deter it from holding him down. It grabbed his wrists and pushed them to his chest.

"Stiles! Calm down."

He kept fighting, but the figure was too strong.

"Stiles." This voice was different. Softer.

He finally stopped struggling and realized that he was fighting Aiden. He stilled except for his heaving chest, and after a minute, Aiden got off of him to let him breath.

"Stiles, what happened?" Lydia asked from beside him, putting a hand on his arm.

He slowly sat up, and Lydia moved closer to him as he swayed.

"I – I, uh-" he looked past Aiden, where he had been standing with the figure, and it was still there.

"Oh, god," he said scrambling up. "We have to get out of here. Now!"

"Why?" Lydia asked, confused.

"That – that – that thing!" he yelled pointing to where the figure was. "It's going to hurt us, and probably kill us!"

Both Aiden and Lydia looked to where he pointed.

"Stiles," she said calmly. "There's nothing there."

"Yes there is, Lydia!" he argued. "Come on, we have to go!"

Stiles grabbed her hand and started to run.

"Stiles!" Lydia yelled, spinning him around. "Trust me, there's nothing there."

"Oh my God! It's right-" he looked back, and the field was empty except for the three of them.

He looked around the field, searching for the figure, but it was gone.

"It was there, Lydia," he said, looking back at her frantically. "And it was in my dream last and it was going to hurt me – I don't know how – but it was, and it was dragging me down a hallway and it said something about destroying all of them and I think it was starting with me!"

His breath was coming in short gasps as his heart practically beat out of his chest. He could see Lydia's lips moving, but he couldn't hear her. Everything slowed down as his vision tunneled, and he couldn't get enough breath in.

Clutching his chest, he collapsed on the field, trying to focus on breathing.

"I can't – take it – anymore – Lydia," he forced out between gasps. "I'm – going – crazy."

He felt a delicate hand on his cheek, forcing him to look up. He met Lydia's emerald eyes, and he faintly heard her speaking.

"Look at me, Stiles," she said. "Focus on my breathing."

She took slow, measured breaths, and he tried to do the same. She stroked his cheeks, encouraging him as his breathing slowed little by little.

He closed his eyes in relief when he could finally breathe again, embracing her in a hug. He could feel his entire body shake, and apparently Lydia felt it, too.

She tightened her arms around him and rubbed small circles on his back.

"It's okay, Stiles," she said softly in his ear. "You're safe, okay?"

"No," he said, "I'm not. None of us are. There's still the demons, Lydia. I may be safe from something that's in my head, but those demons are real."

"Let's not worry about that now," Lydia said, pulling out of the hug to look at him. "Right now, in this moment, you're safe. I'm not going to let anything happened to you. I promise."

He shook his head. This was wrong. He was supposed to protect her.

"What about you?" he asked.

"We can protect each other," she replied, taking his hands in hers. The tremors were starting to slow. Lydia noticed.

"Good," she said, gripping his hands tighter. "Just relax, I'm right here."

He nodded, staring in her eyes, and he could feel the tension slowly leaving his body.

After a few minutes, they stood up, not letting go of each other's hands. He felt calmer that he had in a while. His hands were still shaking, but just barely. Honestly, he didn't know what was going on, or how they were going to fix it, but having Lydia be there for him meant a lot. She was the only one who had been able to really calm him down, and he knew it was because she was his emotional tether.

He remembered that somebody else was there that _wasn't_ a figment of his imagination.

Aiden had stepped back from them, trying to give them space. Judging by the look on his face, you would've thought he had walked in on an intimate moment between lovers instead of witnessing the beginnings of a mental breakdown.

"Hey," Stiles said awkwardly. "Thanks, for, you know…tackling me."

Aiden shrugged. "No problem. I was just trying to help."

The bell rang from the building, surprising them all.

"We should get back to class," Aiden suggested. "I'll meet you guys there."

He started jogging back to the school, leaving Stiles and Lydia by themselves.

"Are you okay enough to go back to school?" Lydia asked him.

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, taking a deep breath. He started walking across the field, nervous to walk through the halls that he had just hallucinated in, but he knew he had to do it.

"Stiles."

He stopped at the tone in her voice. The worry and concern. The desperation.

Slowly, he turned around, and she was right behind him. She looked at his face searchingly, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth.

"Are you really?" she asked, her eyes wide with concern.

" I just wanna get back to the routine, okay?" he told her. "Take my mind off of what just happened."

They stood there looking at each other. Lydia studying his face to see if he was really okay, Stiles begging her to understand.

Finally, she sighed. "Okay, let's go before we miss another class."

"I'm pretty sure the teachers are used to it by now," Stiles joked as they walked.

"Really," Lydia laughed.

She threaded her finger through his, seemingly without a thought. He hesitated a second before squeezing her hand back.

They walked back to the school like this, their hands intertwined, occasionally looking at each other to see if the other was okay.

Right before they got to class, he felt her hand slide out of his. He looked at her for a second, but didn't say anything.

The teacher glared at them when they walked in, but went back to his lecture after a few seconds. They sat down as quietly as they could.

"Dude, where have you been?" Scott whispered from beside him. "And why were you with Lydia?"

Stiles wanted to tell him, but it would take way too long. They would probably get caught by the teacher, who already had a strike against Stiles for being late.

"It's, uh, a long story," he said. "I'll tell you at lunch."

Scott gave him a suspicious look, but nodded slowly before turning back to the teacher.

Leaning back in his seat, Stiles looked at Lydia, surprised to find her staring back. She gave him a small, reassuring smile, which he returned.

Throughout class, and for the rest of the day, his heart was ever so slightly lighter. It wasn't much, but it made a difference. Atleast to him.

And it was all because of a girl with strawberry-blonde hair and emerald green eyes.

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**I hope you guys have had a wonderful Christmas! **

**Tell me what you think!**


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